


Sands Through the Hourglass

by miss_faun



Series: Soulcrossed [4]
Category: Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canonical Character Death, Illnesses, Major Character Injury, Multi, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23035114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_faun/pseuds/miss_faun
Summary: Tim wants to know more about his fiance.He might have gotten more than he bargained for.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Tim Drake/Ra's al Ghul
Series: Soulcrossed [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1512329
Comments: 23
Kudos: 149





	Sands Through the Hourglass

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of this is heavily based on what I could find on "Birth of the Demon." Unfortunately, I wasn't able to find a copy of the comic so I apologize for any glaring errors. I also filled in a bit more about the setting to make it a little more interesting. I did surface-level research, so please let me know if there's anything offensively wrong here.
> 
> For anyone who's wondering, I went with the Alexander Siddig version of Ra's for my physical descriptions. I did have to give him an actual name; it is not based on any actual language and does not mean anything.

“Is it to your liking, beloved?”

Tim looked around. The house hadn’t been changed too much. Some of the decor had been replaced, a few of the rooms redone, but otherwise…

Tim blinked back tears. He was home, finally, and it wasn’t the stifled prison of his childhood. The house was his now, to run as he pleased, with his own partner.

“It’s perfect,” he said. “I don’t know how I can…”

“You do not have to repay me,” Ra’s said, winding an arm over Tim’s shoulders. “We would need to live somewhere...why not here, in a place you are comfortable?”

“Wouldn’t say that,” Tim said. “But it’s a familiar place.” He swallowed a bit. “Can you give me a minute?”

Ra’s nodded and retreated to the main office. Tim took a few deep breaths before he went up the stairs to his childhood bedroom.

As requested, it was almost as he had left it when his father died. His personal belongings were gone, of course, but everything else was still in place. Same carpet, same windowseat where he had read late in the night, same easily opened window he had snuck out of every night. Same closet-turned-darkroom where he had developed the photos of Batman and Robin. Same bookshelf, same paint on the walls.

There was a soft cough behind him after a few minutes. Tim turned and smiled at Ra’s. “Thank you,” he said again.

“I wonder what you would like to do with this room,” Ra’s said. “Since we will be in the master bedroom.”

“Turn it into my own office, maybe,” Tim said. “Or a guestroom, if we ever have guests. Or just a second bedroom if one of us gets angry.”

“Your anger is usually taken out in our bed,” Ra’s said. “But I see your point.” He kissed Tim’s cheek. “And perhaps, one day…”

“No,” Tim said. “I don’t think...kids would be too much of a risk. You have your daughters, and your grandson...more than enough heirs.”

“I would prefer a son.”

“You have a son, too.”

“Hm.” Ra’s didn’t look happy at the mention of Dusan. “I would prefer a child with both of our talents...such a specimen would be beyond compare.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Whether we go all Weird Science or not, please don’t call our children ‘specimens,’” he snapped. “And how would you propose to have kids, anyway?”

“Really, Timothy? You believe I do not have the means?”

Tim groaned. “I don’t think I’d do very well at raising kids.”

“You would not have to. I have staff for that.”

“Speaking as someone raised by staff, no.”

“You would not have to be involved at all. I would just need a genetic sample.”

“Ra’s, no.” Tim stepped away and gestured around the room. “You see this room? This is where I grew up, with uninvolved parents, who basically stuck me in here so I’d be out of the way. I’m not doing that to another person. If we have kids...and I haven’t said yes...but if we do, I’m going to raise them, and they’re going to be loved.”

Ra’s studied him a moment. “You would have our children grow up in a house with two people who consistently hurt each other?” he asked. “You would have them know that we hate each other as much as we love?”

“Hence why I don’t want any at all,” Tim said. “And even if we did...we both live dangerous lives. One of us is going to die too soon. I don’t want to...you saw what the villains of Gotham did to me just to hurt you. Would you put your children in their sights?”

“That is a consideration,” Ra’s agreed. “Perhaps we should table the discussion for a few years.”

“Yeah,” Tim said. He put down his backpack and pulled out his laptop. “I’m going to order furniture for this room. Office. With a bed.”

“All right,” Ra’s said. “Someone will let you know when dinner is ready.”

“Fine.” Tim sat down in the window seat, making it clear the conversation was over.

*

“So this is the famous Drake mansion.” Steph flopped down on the couch comfortably.

“Don’t get too used to it,” Tim said. “It will be the al Ghul mansion by the time we’re done here.”

“Oh, are you changing your name?”

“No,” Tim said. “Al Ghul isn’t actually a last name, and the Drake name still commands respect in Gotham. But you know he’s going to take this...it was just more convenient to buy this house instead of trying to get another one.”

“Right,” Steph said. “And you’re okay with that?”

“This was never mine,” Tim said. “Even after Dad died...I sold the house off immediately. I didn’t want to be here. And now that it’s going to be my marital home...it still doesn’t feel like mine. It feels like his. Like it’s just another ploy to win my favor...something to appease me.”

“And you’re going through with the wedding?”

Tim smiled slightly. “He doesn’t seem to get that he’s already won me...he doesn’t need to manipulate me into loving him.”

Steph made a disgusted face. “Gross.”

“Oh, stop it.” Tim swatted at her, quickly signing that there were cameras all over the room. “I just find it cute that he’s still trying.”

“The word ‘cute’ doesn’t belong anywhere in relation to Ra’s al Ghul,” Steph said.

“Maybe not,” Tim admitted. “But that’s how this feels.”

“So you’re happy?”

“Yeah,” Tim said. “I am.”

*

It was only half a lie.

Tim was happy. He had his home back, he had his soulmate. Yeah, they disagreed a lot, but that wasn’t anything new. They both knew that they weren’t going to be perfectly happy.

It still felt wrong, somehow.

Tim sighed, staring into the fire in the drawing room. He had spent precious little time here in his youth, and now he felt like he was just play-acting. Standing like his father. Like Bruce. Like every other silly rich man.

He barely glanced up at the tap at the window. It was unlocked; Tim knew that most of his associates preferred to enter that way.

Cass dropped in next to him, silent, barely a shadow. Tim nodded to acknowledge her presence.

“Catwoman asked my help,” Cass said.

“Oh?”

“She wants me with Deathstroke. Strike an Owl.”

“Why is she sending you? Deathstroke is capable of doing it himself.”

“In case of others. And to make sure no innocents are hurt.”

“I see...and you’ll be in your old uniform?”

Cass nodded. “Have to make it look like war.”

“I’ll do what I can to fuel it.”

“We’ll keep you informed.” With that, she was gone.

Tim sighed. He knew this was the only thing that he could do. What he had to do if he wanted a chance to be truly happy.

He just hoped it wouldn’t go wrong, even though his instinct told him it would.

*

Barely three weeks later, Ra’s came home and Tim knew he was in a temper.

“Beloved,” Ra’s said, his voice sharp.

“Yes?” Tim’s breath was steady. He could lie to Batman. He could certainly lie to Ra’s.

“I suppose you know why the Court of Owls is under the impression that I have declared war on them?”

“I heard that there was an incident,” Tim said vaguely.

“I feel that I am being set-up,” Ra’s said. “That someone is attempting to start a conflict.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Tim asked. “The Court of Owls is the biggest threat to you in this city...you’ll have to take care of them someday.”

“And it seems that someone has chosen to start it for me.”

“Who and why?”

“You are the detective...I was hoping you would tell me.”

Tim stood and sashayed to his fiance, wrapping his arms around Ra’s’ neck. “If I had to guess, I would assume it’s the people who wanted you out of the city,” he said. “The ones who kidnapped me to force you to leave...having the Court of Owls hunting you would force you out of the city more effectively.”

Ra’s looked down at Tim. “I see.” He reached up and took Tim’s hands, gently pushing him back. “You are devious, beloved.”

Tim swallowed. “I can’t think what you mean.”

“There have been many people raising objections to me coming to Gotham. The first among them was you. And I wonder...who among your various enemies would be clever enough to arrange this action?”

“Are you saying I arranged my own kidnapping?”

“I did wonder,” Ra’s said. “After all, were I attempting to send a message, I would deliver you to the Joker...possibly Black Mask. Someone who would not hesitate to harm or even kill you. And yet it was Poison Ivy who called me...someone who is friendly with your stepmother. Someone who I know has no true ill intent toward you.”

“Selina was interfering,” Tim said. “She told me that...it’s you they have a problem with.”

Ra’s ignored him. “And then the Owls start dropping...at the hands of assassins with the Demon’s symbol. And yet I have not ordered any of them. Furthermore, the Court of Owls does not stop to discuss these matters. Already, I have lost four of my top field agents...whether they have been killed or recruited, I am uncertain. I have few options. Either I retaliate, and Gotham becomes a warzone, or we leave, and I take you from your home. I do not wish for either.”

“Both of you can avoid collateral damage if you want to. There’s no reason Gotham has to be destroyed.”

“Then prove it.” Ra’s was glaring now. “Tomorrow, you will come with me. You will coordinate my troops. You will go onto the field, and you will determine how we win.”

Tim blinked. “You trust me to do that?” he asked. 

“No,” Ra’s said. “But I know you would not do this merely to force me out of the city. I wish to keep an eye on you.”

“You already do that!” Tim shouted, stepping back. “Every inch of this house is under surveillance all the time! You don’t trust me to do what’s best for us, you don’t trust me to make any decisions about my own life! You treat me like I’m still one of your ninja...or one of your children! You can’t do that when you’re planning to marry me!”

“And what have you done to earn that trust?” Ra’s asked. “You have made it clear that we are still enemies. And I will not allow my enemies to operate freely when I can help it.”

“I don’t want to be your enemy!” Tim said. “I want to be your husband! I want to love you without feeling like I’m being tested!”

“Then what will you do to prove that love?”

Tim threw up his hands. “I can’t do this,” he snapped. “I’m going to sleep in the office. Let me know when you want to treat me like an adult.”

“You may do that,” Ra’s said. “I still expect you to accompany me tomorrow...if you are to be my husband, you will have to be able to support me in the field when you are not fighting me.”

“Fine,” Tim snapped. He turned and went to his childhood bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

*

Tim didn’t sleep well that night. Granted, he barely slept well any night, but that had gotten better when he slept with Ra’s. Back in his old room, now an office with a twin bed shoved in a corner, Tim was too cold to sleep, too angry to go back to the master bedroom and beg Ra’s to let him back in.

By the time morning came, Tim was cross and more exhausted than he’d been in months. Tam noticed immediately.

“You okay?” she asked, bringing Tim his third cup of coffee around eleven.

“Had a fight with Ra’s,” Tim said. “And not the fun kind.”

Tam raised an eyebrow and sat down on Tim’s desk. “What about?”

“I just…” Tim rubbed at his temples. “I don’t understand him,” he said. “And I’m supposed to...we’re soulbonded. And I still don’t get how or why or what I’m supposed to do about it...how I can balance being Tim Drake and being Red Robin and being...whoever Ra’s wants me to be? How can I do all of it without letting someone down?”

“You can’t,” Tam said.

Tim looked up at her. “But…”

“Tim, I’m serious. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. You’re exhausted...you’re irritable. You work yourself to illness every day and then destroy your body fighting every night. And then you go and get engaged to one of the most difficult people on the planet.”

“You don’t even know him.”

“He kidnapped me!”

“He kidnapped me, you were just along for the ride. And he let you go pretty quick when I asked him to.”

“That’s not the point, Tim. Whatever you feel about him in the moment, he’s still an emotional blackhole, and he’s going to be difficult to live with long-term. And no matter how strong your soulbond is, it’s going to to take a lot of effort on your part to have a successful marriage.”

“I know that,” Tim said. “But…”

“You have other responsibilities,” Tam finished. “You run a giant international company, plus you guard a large part of Gotham, and you have obligations to your family and society. At some point...something has to give.”

“I’ve been doing it for four years,” Tim said. “I’ve been running the company and the nightlife and my relationship since I was eighteen...I can still do it now.”

“You can’t, though,” Tam said. “Your relationship has changed...you’re getting married. And you can’t keep juggling all of these commitments without killing yourself. Tim...it’s time to decide what’s important to you.”

Tim laid his head on his desk. His head was pounding. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “I don’t know what to do...I just...I wish I knew who he really was. He keeps saying that the man I was actually supposed to match with is dead...but I don’t know what that means. I know...so little about him...about his past, about who he is underneath the theatrics and the murder and the...you know...supervillainy. At least Selina is someone outside of being Catwoman...Ra’s didn’t even tell me his name until we’d been sleeping together for a year.”

“What is his name, anyway?”

“I can’t pronounce it...doesn’t matter. Point is, he never turns it off...every time I think I’ve cracked through it and he shows some vulnerability, he just...walls me off and won’t let me in.”

“I guess after six hundred years, it gets really hard to relate to people,” Tam said drily. “But if he doesn’t want to talk to you, there’s not much you can do about it.”

“He wants me on the street with him tonight,” Tim said. “And I know I have to go if I want this marriage to happen, but…”

“Tim, you can’t go out tonight...even if it wasn’t going to be with the guy driving you crazy, you’re not fighting fit. And don’t think I won’t call Bruce to keep you from going.”

“Bruce can’t stop Ra’s from taking me. Being dead isn’t even an excuse to him...he’ll haul my body along until he can drop me in a Pit.”

Tam sighed. “All right...go home early. Get some sleep, otherwise you’re going to be useless to him anyway.”

“Fine,” Tim said. He was too tired to even argue as he sat up and chugged the coffee in one go. “Send a message to Bruce that the plan is compromised and he’ll need to come by and get my house keys to get it back on track.”

“Yes, Mr. Drake.”

*

Tim breathed deep. As much as he didn’t want to be out with Ra’s, it was good to be in uniform, on a rooftop, working on strategies and logistics.

“How many assassins have you called into the city?” Tim asked. He was kneeling on a roof, typing on his tablet, pulling up the schematics and maps of the city, marking his known allies and adversaries, watching all the lights on the screen.

“I have recalled two dozen into Gotham, with another fifty ready to come in at my signal,” Ra’s said. He stood above Tim, looking over the city. “I would prefer for them to not all come in at once...that would cause more disruption than I would like at this moment.”

“Don’t you have plans to nuke the city eventually?”

“I have already promised to evacuate you before I do.” Ra’s glanced down at Tim. “You insist that I should trust you...if that is what you want, I suggest you trust me in turn.”

“Right,” Tim muttered. He made a few notes, moving a few dots on his screen. “I guess that it’d be weird to destroy the city where you just bought a house...really brings down the property values.”

“Only if you are trying to resell it to the wealthy...the survivors would be crawling to us and give anything to have shelter after such an event.”

“Temporary boom, and what survivors there were would die out quickly. You’ll end up with no one except me and your assassins.”

“I can think of nothing I would like more.”

Tim rolled his eyes, though Ra’s couldn’t see it. “Honestly, why are you such a misanthropist? Environmental shit aside, and you could very easily take out the people who actually control that.”

“I do not have to explain myself to you.”

“You kind of do, we’re getting married.”

“Correction. I do not have to explain myself to you at this moment, when we are focused on another matter entirely.”

“Right, right,” Tim muttered. “Always another reason not to…”

“Red Robin!”

Tim jumped up just in time to see Ra’s turn and block a sword aimed at Tim’s neck. Tim looked around quickly, realizing there were shadows closing in on the roof. He glanced back and launched a line before catching Ra’s around the waist, pulling him along as he swung across the buildings.

“I do not recall consenting to you doing this!” Ra’s shouted.

“Just trust me!” Tim said. “We don’t want to fight up there, it’s too easy to fall!”

“So you would prefer to fight on the street where there are civilians?”

“I’m taking it somewhere empty, just hold on!”

“You cannot possibly…”

“I’ve hauled Batman and the Red Hood across this city before, I can hold onto you!”

Ra’s growled, but he did shift to better hold onto Tim’s cape as they swung across the city. Tim was acutely aware of their pursuers, but he didn’t look back. He flew them across the city, dashing over rooftops, ignoring the shadows beside him. He had to trust Ra’s to fend them off until he could get to a better place for a fight.

Their soulmarks were glowing bright, brighter than ever, shining through their sleeves and lighting their way. Tim almost laughed. It felt...good. Natural, to fly across the city with Ra’s, with the Owls hot on their trail. It felt better than flying with his brothers. Like he was meant to be here.

“This way!” Tim tugged Ra’s to a fire escape, heading down. The warehouses were ahead, empty at this hour. He heard the clang of swords behind him, but Ra’s was still holding onto his hand, so Tim didn’t feel the need to turn.

He soon reached the street he was aiming for, wide enough for swords, no civilians. He let go of Ra’s and drew his bo staff, the two of them back-to-back as everything stopped for a moment.

Tim breathed deep, seeing the Owls coming toward them. He raised his staff defensively. “I don’t remember inviting them to the wedding,” he muttered.

“If this is your idea of a wedding, I clearly have to educate you better,” Ra’s said.

“You’d know better than me,” Tim said. “How many times have you been married?”

“Only four, surprisingly,” Ra’s said. “I am usually too busy.”

“Great, glad to know I’m special,” Tim said. “Ready to dance?”

“Always, beloved.”

The Owls moved in, and the fight was on. Tim didn’t bother to look back, knowing Ra’s could handle himself. He simply struck at the shadows around him, blocking their strikes, hitting them as hard as he could, forcing them back. It was easy, the glow from his mark lighting everything in him. His soul was singing, in perfect sync with the one behind him…

Just as Tim forced another Owl back, though, there was a flash of light from the shadows. Tim gasped, pain coursing through him. His arm was burning, and the singing in his soul became screaming, like he was being torn apart.

“Timothy!” Tim could hear the clash of swords around him. He could feel Ra’s above him, circling to keep the Owls away from him. Tim was shaking, burning in body and soul, unable to stand…

There was another blast and Ra’s screamed, screamed like he was being tortured. The tearing in Tim’s core was growing rougher, pulling him apart on the inside. He was dying, screaming, falling…

Falling…

Tim hit the ground hard, burning inside and out. The sounds around him changed. He no longer heard Ra’s, or the clang of swords. But he could hear people, hoofbeats, shouting and calling in a language he couldn’t quite place through the haze of pain.

He felt someone kneel beside him, soft hands on his forehead, and then he finally blacked out.

*

“Who is he?”

“Where did he come from?”

“What is he wearing?”

“Stand back!” Sora glared at the people assembled around the strange boy who had fallen from the sky. “He is injured, he needs help!”

“He could be a devil!” one of the men nearby said. “Sent to curse this city!”

“He is a boy!” Sora insisted. “Someone fetch the Physician, now!”

It took a moment before someone dashed off. Sora kept kneeling next to the boy, examining him.

He was pale, paler than most people of the city. A Westoner, then, though he wasn’t dressed like any Westoner Sora had ever seen. He had a mask over the top of his face, hiding his eyes behind hard white glass. He wore a cloak, and had strange markings on his torn and burned tunic, though she couldn’t be sure of them through the blood and blisters on his chest. Sora reached down to remove his mask…

And withdrew immediately as a hard shock went through her arm. “By Allah,” she muttered, suddenly afraid. Perhaps he was a devil after all. Perhaps he would wake and harm her, drag her to Hell. Or perhaps he was a test from above, of her kindness and charity.

Before she could think too much about it, the messenger arrived with the Physician. He nodded to Sora before he knelt beside the boy. She stood and moved off, watching.

The Physician had arrived a year before. Sora didn’t know from where, or even what his name was--she had heard it spoken, she was sure, but it was strange, in a language she did not know. He spoke little of the local dialect, but he didn’t need words to impress. His skill was unprecedented, the sick and injured he found always sent away perfectly healed, and if he didn’t hear their thanks, he certainly understood their money.

He was handsome as well, Sora noted. Young and lithe, skin bronzed from the sun, curls falling in golden eyes. The sort of man that any young woman would be happy to court, though he had never glanced at any of them. And his hands were so steady, long fingers, gentle touch. Sora just wished she could speak to him in a way he would understand.

He checked the boy over before he stood, scooping the boy up in his arms and carrying him off. Sora hesitated, then followed. “Physician!” she called out. It was what everyone called him, no one able to say his true name.

He turned to her. “Yes...Miss?” he asked in halting Arabic.

“His mask,” she said. “It will burn you.”

“Thank you,” he said. “I will...have caution.”

She smiled. “Do you want help?”

“No,” he said. “But you come.”

She nodded and followed back to the house. It was small, but functional. The Physician laid the boy down on the bed, tearing at the ruined clothes to get a better look at the wound.

Sora could only watch as the Physician tore off the boy’s tunic and belt, tossing them aside before he got to work, putting medicine over the burns, bandaging him efficiently.

“Will he live?” Sora asked.

“It is...not death,” the Physician said. He was staring at the boy, a slight frown on his face. “Mark is...not right.”

Sora looked at the boy’s wrist. He had a soulmark there, glowing faintly, written in a language Sora didn’t recognize. “Do you know it?” she asked.

“It is...me,” the Physician said. “But I...not.” He held up his wrist, which was blank. “But feel…”

“That’s impossible,” Sora said. “Soulmarks come in two...perhaps it’s just someone who shares your name?”

“I do not think,” he said. “Family...small. Names...new.”

“But still possible,” Sora said. “He is not yours.”

“I have no,” the Physician agreed. “Will ask...when wake.”

“I can sit with him,” Sora said. “I am sure you are very busy.”

“Who...pay?”

“I will,” Sora said. “No one knows who he is or where he came from.”

The Physician nodded. “Sleep,” he said. “When wake, call.”

“Of course.” Sora sat down next to the boy. She imagined he would be handsome under the mask. She gently brushed the long hair from his forehead, wondering about him, about his mark. He seemed...small. Strange. But something about him urged Sora to care for him. Angel or demon, he needed her help.

*

Tim groaned as he woke. His chest still hurt, though a little less. He shifted and realized it was bandaged. He opened his eyes and realized his mask was still on. He tried to raise his hand to remove it.

Someone spoke. Tim took a moment to process the language as classical Arabic, a woman.

“Fuck’s sake, Talia,” Tim muttered in English. “Let me get this thing off since your dad wasn’t nice enough.”

The Arabic sounded confused as Tim disabled his mask and peeled it off.

The woman beside him wasn’t Talia. She was younger, very pretty, and dressed in a very old-fashioned dress and veil. Her eyes were dark, but sparkling, and she looked very kind.

She spoke again. Tim was somewhat conversational in classical Arabic, thanks to Damian speaking it constantly, but he wasn’t fluent and hadn’t practiced in a while.

“I’m sorry,” Tim said. “I don’t…” He closed his eyes a moment before speaking back. “Not...understand.”

The woman sighed a bit. She turned away, calling out. Tim thought he recognized the word as “Doctor.” Well, that was something.

He looked around the room. It was very simple, small. Tim was on a very hard bed in the center of the room. There were cabinets beside him, a fireplace on the other side, a small eating mat in front of it. There was a set of stairs going up. The entire space was narrow, spartan, and slightly dusty. He spotted his tunic on a cabinet, his belt on top of it, thankfully unopened.

The woman turned back and gave a small smile. She said something else. Tim caught the word “rest” in it, but not anything more.

A moment later, there were footsteps on the stairs and a man appeared. Tim’s breath caught.

It was Ra’s, but he was...young. Much smaller than the Ra’s Tim knew, less muscled. His face was softer, and his eyes were gold instead of green. Tim stared for a moment, the pieces sliding into place.

“Well, fuck,” he muttered.

Time travel. Obviously. The Court of Owls must have done something, sent him back in time to when Ra’s was young. Tim didn’t know how far back that was, or how to undo it, or what it even meant.

Ra’s glanced at the woman and asked a question. His Arabic was as halting as Tim’s. Very far back, then.

The woman answered easily. Ra’s stepped over, examining Tim closely before he spoke. “Who…?” he asked.

Tim swallowed. Neither of them spoke English, then. “Timothy,” he said. “Name...Timothy.”

Ra’s said something, not in Arabic, though it sounded about as halting. Tim blinked; the language sounded familiar, but not quite right. He shook his head, running through every language he knew before settling. “I’m sorry,” he said in Mandarin. “I don’t know what that was.”

Ra’s stared at him in confusion before saying something in a language that Tim couldn’t even place. Tim stared back before he started laughing, partly at the ridiculousness of the situation and partly out of hysteria.

The woman said something in Arabic before she smiled at Tim. “Sora,” she said, gesturing at herself.

Tim smiled. “Hello, Sora,” he said. He was fairly certain the form of “hello” he used was wrong, but it got the point across.

She said quite a lot more. Tim concentrated enough to catch that the doctor would care for him, but not much past that.

“Stay?” Ra’s asked.

She shook her head and said more. Ra’s nodded and she left. Tim stared at Ra’s, frustrated.

Ra’s sat down beside him and reached over for Tim’s wrist. Tim raised it, letting him see. Ra’s looked up, obviously confused.

Tim swallowed. “S...si...ahn...lesh,” he said.

Ra’s blinked, then spoke. “Sjai’yhan’leish,” he said, the word smooth and gentle from his lips. He seemed to struggle a moment before speaking in halting Arabic again. “You...know.”

Tim looked down, trying to decide what to say and how to say it. This Ra’s didn’t speak English, clearly, and Tim couldn’t speak whatever other languages Ra’s had tried. Arabic was their only option, and neither of them seemed to be very fluent.

They looked at each other for a long moment before Ra’s started to speak, and Tim was relieved to recognize Latin, explaining his wounds. Tim nodded along. Second degree burns, fractures in his ribs, a few lacerations on his lungs. Which meant that Tim wasn’t going anywhere for a while.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Tim said, also in Latin. Ra’s looked relieved that they were able to say that much. 

They fell into silence, mostly because there was no real way to communicate. Tim laid back, sorting through his thoughts.

It had to be whatever the Owls had shot him with. Something stolen, no doubt. Tim’s soulmark was glowing softly, though he wasn’t sure what that meant in this circumstance. His arm wasn’t burning, at least, and while he felt off-kilter, he wasn’t sure if that was due to being in the wrong time or being so far from the man he was bonded to.

Then again, he wasn’t, was he? This Ra’s...Sjai’yhan’leish...he was Tim’s soulmate. It was his name on Tim’s wrist...the same soul, albeit with less experience. This was the man Tim was meant to be matched to. The one that Ra’s had always insisted was dead.

He was beautiful, like this. Softer. His hands were gentle as he checked Tim over, a small smile hanging around his mouth. And while he couldn’t speak any language Tim did, he was sure of his skills.

“Sleep,” Ra’s said, in Arabic. “Need.”

Tim nodded. “Thank,” he said. He closed his eyes and drifted off.

*

The next few days were spent entirely in bed. Tim slept more than he had since the last time he was this injured--which was not too long ago, come to think on it. Ra’s attended to him, though they didn’t speak much. Occasionally, they would say random words in various languages to see if it would work, but so far, Latin and Arabic were their best options. Tim had at least recognized one of the languages as Byzantine Greek, though that wasn’t particularly helpful since he had only learned to read it and not speak it; Ra’s seemed to recognize Hebrew, though he didn’t seem much more fluent in it than Arabic.

Still, they didn’t really need to talk. Ra’s mostly just changed out medicine and bandages and told Tim to sleep. He would bring food over a few times a day, mostly rice and vegetables, and Tim ate it without complaint. It felt...almost normal, really. Less banter, sure, but still comfortable.

The only stumbling block came when Ra’s picked up Tim’s belt. Tim had called out a “No!” and Ra’s turned, confused.

“Don’t,” Tim said. “Please...give.” He held out his hand.

Ra’s handed him the belt, still looking puzzled. Tim tucked it under his pillow. “Secret,” he said.

Ra’s nodded slowly. Tim decided he’d have to accept that--he couldn’t risk this Ra’s seeing the tech in his belt. He wasn’t sure how much he would interfere with the timeline just by being here; he certainly didn’t want to release twenty-first century tech centuries early.

Sora showed up again a week later. Tim was feeling well enough to get out of bed, so he and Ra’s were having lunch on the mat.

“Hello, Timothy,” she said, her voice lilting on his name. “Hello, Doctor.” Her eyes smiled behind her veil as she set a wooden case down on the mat and said something Tim didn’t quite understand.

“Thank?” Tim said, unsure if that was a good response. She smiled and opened the case, revealing a wooden chess set.

Ra’s quirked his eyebrow. “Play?” he asked Tim.

“Yes,” Tim said, relieved that they could still do this. “Good?”

“No,” Ra’s said. “But enjoy.”

Sora smiled at them both. “My father’s,” she explained. “He doesn’t play with me.”

Tim nodded and started setting up the board. “Help him,” he said. “I good.”

Sora sat down next to Ra’s, who...blushed? Tim hid his smirk. It was such an odd thing to see Ra’s look like that, even this younger Ra’s, who didn’t hide every emotion.

“Beautiful, yes?” Tim teased in Latin.

“Silence, fool,” Ra’s shot back in the same language. Sora glanced between them, a bit puzzled.

“You are of the West?” she asked Tim.

“Yes,” Tim said.

“Eyes East,” Ra’s observed.

“Father,” Tim said. “Of China. Mother...Greece.”

“War?” Ra’s asked.

“No,” Tim said. “Money.”

Ra’s and Sora both nodded. “Where is your home?” Sora asked.

Tim stared at the pieces a long time, trying to figure out how to answer. “Far,” he finally said. “Very far.”

“Will you go back?” Sora asked.

“Hope,” Tim said. “Not know way.”

“Stay,” Ra’s said. “Long as need.”

“Thank,” Tim said. He moved his pawn.

It turned out that this Ra’s was as terrible at chess as said, though Sora did manage to keep him from losing too quickly. Tim was surprised at how normal Sora felt. He was used to taking on Ra’s one on one, but she felt...natural, being with them.

It all felt nice.

*

“City?” Tim asked a few weeks later. Ra’s had invited him to go out into the city with him that day, saying that fresh air would do him good. Or at least, that was what Tim thought he said.

They had managed to work out a system of communication, mostly. Arabic and Latin, with a few words of Hebrew, Greek, English, and Ra’s’ dialect of Mandarin. It wasn’t complete, and they still stumbled a lot, but they could at least say enough to convey their points.

“Fes,” Ra’s said. “Morocco.”

“Good,” Tim said. It wasn’t good, not remotely helpful. He wasn’t very familiar with the area, especially not in this time period, and from what little he did know, he was several thousand miles from anyone who spoke English at all.

At least he wasn’t still in his Red Robin costume, which was little more than rags. The only part of it Tim still wore was his belt, mostly to ensure no one else could open it. Ra’s had lent him clothes, which were slightly big on him still, and Tim had no money to rectify it. Still, it was good to go outside into the city. 

It was like nothing Tim had ever seen. He looked around, at the people, the horses and camels, the buildings he might have seen in photographs but had never had the opportunity to see in person...and some of them, he would never see again, even if he came back here.

He followed Ra’s through the market. People nodded to Ra’s, greeting him as the Doctor. Tim half-smiled; clearly no one here could pronounce his true name either, though Doctor didn’t feel appropriate for the man Tim knew. The Master would probably be more suitable.

“No name?” Tim asked.

“Doctor serves,” Ra’s answered with a shrug. “May well be name now.”

Tim nodded. “What get?”

“Food,” Ra’s said. “Cloth. Medicine.”

“Yes,” Tim said. “Good.”

Tim paid close attention to the transactions, concentrating on picking up words. If he was going to be here long, he would have to be able to communicate more effectively than the pidgin half-language he and Ra’s were developing. 

By the time they were finished, Tim was slightly more confident about his vocabulary. As he and Ra’s walked back to the house, Tim looked over at him. “Not speak,” he observed.

“Learn,” Ra’s said. “Must learn, to rise in...city life.”

Tim smiled slightly. “Faith,” he said. “You rise.”

“Faith?” Ra’s repeated. “Not have, me.”

“Faith,” Tim insisted. He looked at Ra’s, meeting golden eyes with certainty. “Faith, you rise, in time.”

Ra’s frowned. “Such faith,” he said. “Not know.”

“Healed,” Tim said. “Doctor. Faith...you...this.” He held up his wrist, still glowing.

Ra’s looked at it for a long time. “Strange,” he said. “Faith...name.”

“Faith you,” Tim insisted. “You...Shy-yan-laysh.”

“Sjai’yhan’leish,” Ra’s corrected. 

“Sorry,” Tim said. “Know rise.”

“Faith...help,” Ra’s said. “Thank.”

Tim smiled softly. “Good,” he said. “Rise, good.”

*

Tim sighed. It had been nearly two months since he had arrived in the past. He was mostly healed now, new scars on his chest, but he was used to that. He and Ra’s were generally at peace, but Tim knew it couldn’t last.

The problem was, he almost wanted it to last. Language barrier aside, this version of Ra’s was a lot easier to live with--in fact, Tim was fairly certain that not being able to talk fluently with each other helped with that. But even aside from that, Ra’s was softer, kinder, much more content to go about his business with a quiet but confident air.

They had patients in and out in those months--someone ill here, someone injured there. Tim helped as much as he could without revealing too much knowledge that would be out of place here, though he wasn’t sure how successful he was. A few times, in the heat of the moment, as Tim and Ra’s shouted Latin back and forth at each other, Ra’s would frown in confusion before carrying out a course of action, and Tim would curse not knowing enough about medical history to watch himself.

Sora came by at least once a week, usually with a chessboard or a book. She seemed determined that Ra’s and Tim improve their Arabic, which they did, though they were perhaps a bit lax about actually using it with each other. Tim still looked forward to her visits; it was nice to talk to someone besides Ra’s regularly and not during a crisis.

It helped that Sora was very attractive. Not that Tim was interested, but he did enjoy seeing any version of Ra’s get flustered.

Life was good here. It was quiet, and peaceful, and Tim almost wanted to stay. But he knew he couldn’t. He missed home, his family, his life, his Ra’s. The version he had here was everything he ever wanted, but he wasn’t the man Tim loved.

*

“Doctor!”

Tim barely had time to get out of the way as the door opened and a man entered. Tim had seen him before, in the city, but he was more concerned with the figure in his arms.

He was carrying Sora, unconscious. Tim gestured to the bed as Ra’s came down the stairs.

“Happened?” Ra’s demanded.

“The fever,” the man said. “Her breath stopped...help her. Please.”

“Timothy, water,” Ra’s snapped.

“Hot cold?”

“Hot, now. Medicine cabinet.” Ra’s ducked his head. “Respect, but must remove veil.”

“For my daughter’s safety, you may,” the man said. “But I will remain here.”

Ra’s nodded and pulled the veil aside. Tim dared glance back, catching a glimpse of Sora’s beauty. And such beauty it was, her face perfectly formed, only marred by the tinge of fever.

“Symptoms?” Tim asked.

“She’s coughing badly,” the man said. “She can’t breathe, and she’s been too cold.”

“Touch?” Tim asked with a small bow.

“If you must.”

“Need listen to chest,” Tim said. 

Sora’s father nodded. Tim leaned in and listened.

“Thought?” Ra’s asked.

“My language, pneumonia,” Tim said. He looked up at Ra’s, slipping back to Latin. “Inflammation of lungs. Bacteria or virus, unsure.”

“Have seen,” Ra’s agreed. “Can treat.”

“Will she live?” Sora’s father asked.

“Will live,” Ra’s answered. “Timothy, come.”

They moved easily, in tandem, grabbing and mixing medicines in a well-practiced dance. In a way, it was almost like the night they had fought together, being so certain in their movements, never having to speak a word. Tim felt his chest aching, missing his Ra’s more than ever.

It didn’t take long before Sora was breathing easier. Ra’s gave her father a nod. “Must rest,” he said.

“I will stay, then.” Sora’s father settled into the chair by the bed. “My thanks.”

“Call if change,” Ra’s said. “Come, Timothy.”

They retreated upstairs. It was a single room, full of all the things that wouldn’t fit downstairs. Ra’s sat heavily on the bed. Tim hesitated a moment before he sat beside him.

“Will live,” Tim said.

Ra’s nodded. They were silent for a long time, not looking at each other. Tim closed his eyes and breathed, and it was almost like being home. The body next to him was smaller, the scent slightly different, but…

But the pull was there. The feelings were there. And it didn’t matter how much Tim wanted it not to be true, because...

“Timothy?”

Tim snapped out of his reverie and glanced over. “Yes, Doctor?” he said.

Ra’s gave him a small smile. “Lost thought,” he said.

“Little,” Tim admitted. “Miss home.”

Ra’s nodded. “Same.”

Tim bit his lip. This Ra’s was more open than his; maybe…

“Tell me?” he asked.

Ra’s sighed and closed his eyes, clearly struggling as he chose words. “Travel,” he said. “Much travel...everywhere. Tribe...small. Kind.”

“Mother, father?”

“Gone,” Ra’s said. “Long ago. Learn uncle. City...Beijing.”

Tim nodded. “Know Beijing.”

“Young, saw,” Ra’s said. “Science...not know words, but understood...called. Medicine...ideas. Wish learn...left tribe. Here...name Doctor. But no language. No home.”

Tim nodded in understanding. “Nowhere close,” he said. He blinked back tears.

“Your home?”

Tim thought a moment, sorting through their pidgin language to decide what he could even say. “Far,” he said. “As told. Large city, west...over sea. Dark...but love. Mother, father, gone. New father. Brothers.” He paused. “Big store...mine. Soldiers...street. Know...much. Marry soon.” He held up his hand to show the engagement ring, glad he hadn’t lost it.

“Your Sjai’yhan’leish?”

Tim couldn’t stop the tears, looking at the man who would become Ra’s al Ghul, the man who would hurt and love and destroy him. “Beautiful,” he said. “Sad...angry. Hurt...many. Bad man...but love. So love. Want back.”

Ra’s was frowning at him. “Know much. More any man. Not from here...not from now.”

Tim blinked. “How?”

“Strange clothes. Strange tongue. Strange manner...know more. How come from so far?”

“Fight,” Tim said carefully. “Shi’yan’lesh...ask help...Great Birds...want city. Fight...sword. Strange machine...tear soul.” Tim touched his wrist. “Sent far...back...you.”

“How far back?”

“Six hundreds,” Tim said. “More less.”

Ra’s was quiet a long moment. “Six hundreds,” he murmured. “So far.” He looked at Tim closely. “Your Sjai’yhan’leish...bad man?”

Tim looked away, but nodded.

“Why marry bad man?”

“Mate,” Tim said. “Love...know...once good.” He glanced back at Ra’s. “Know...still good.”

Ra’s looked at Tim, into his eyes, so deep and penetrating and Tim knew that stare, had been on the receiving end of it so many times. “Know me.”

Tim was silent, but that seemed to be enough.

“How live?” Ra’s asked.

Tim shook his head. “Can’t…” His breathing was growing short.

He could stop it. Here, now, he could prevent Ra’s al Ghul from ever coming to be. He could keep this man...this beautiful, kind man...from several lifetimes of misery. He could save so many people, prevent so much destruction…

But at what cost? If Sjai’yhan’leish were to die at his appointed time, Tim would have no soulmate. He would go through life alone and markless, as he was supposed to. No more complicated relationship. No more marriage, or a marriage to someone else, someone less terrible.

No more Bruce scratching at a mark that wouldn’t exist. No more Damian to usurp Tim’s place. No more missing spleen, no more children killed as assassins…

But what would rise in place of the Demon? Tim couldn’t take that risk, couldn’t sacrifice the world he knew. Couldn’t sacrifice Damian. Couldn’t give up on his soulmate, even now.

“Timothy?”

“Sorry,” Tim said. “I…” He looked up. “Love. So much. In time...you know how.”

Ra’s looked down. “Love,” he said. “Sora.”

Tim nodded. “Love too,” he said. 

“Happy?”

“Not know,” Tim said. “Not know...any, much.” And it was true, Tim realized. He barely knew Ra’s at all, didn’t know anything about his past, didn’t know anything that wasn’t pain and fighting and sex, which were too often the same thing. 

And it wasn’t like Tim had ever made any real effort to find out. He hadn’t asked Ra’s any personal questions after asking how to pronounce his name; of course, Ra’s had been so cagey that Tim didn’t feel that he could have asked anything more personal. He doubted he would have gotten an answer. And Ra’s had obviously taken steps to conceal anything about himself from the rest of the world, so Tim couldn’t have found out much himself.

Really, this was the only way he could know anything.

Ra’s was looking at him again. Tim met his gaze. “Mine,” Ra’s whispered.

“Will be,” Tim said. “Yours. Always.”

Ra’s kissed him. Tim’s breath caught, and then he was kissing back, a hand going to Ra’s’ hair. They stayed there a few minutes before Ra’s pulled away.

“Can’t,” he said. “Not now.”

Tim nodded. “No need.”

Ra’s pulled Tim close to him. “Will wait,” he said. “Will find way.”

“Yes,” Tim said. “You...rise.”

*

Sora was awake when Ra’s and Tim went downstairs the next morning. She smiled at them as she sat up.

“Feel?” Ra’s asked.

“Better,” Sora said. “Much better, thank you.”

Ra’s went over and felt her forehead. “Fever gone,” he barked to Tim in Latin.

“Good sign,” Tim said back. “Chest?”

“Normal,” Ra’s said.

Sora watched them quietly as they moved about. Tim took her another dose of medicine while Ra’s got food. She looked at them with such fondness that Tim’s heart almost ached.

“You’re both wonderful,” Sora said suddenly.

They turned and looked at her. “Thank?” Ra’s said, a blush creeping up on his face.

“But you’re so much better together,” Sora continued. “I don’t know how...you two fit.”

Tim and Ra’s exchanged a look, their conversation from the night before heavy on both their minds. “Feel right,” Tim finally said.

Sora nodded. “Good,” she said. “You’re both so lonely...so far from home. I’m glad that you’ve both found a friend.”

“Many friend,” Ra’s said. “Happy here...home here.”

“Do you agree, Timothy?”

Tim shrugged. “Home far,” he said. “Miss mine.” He waved his wrist vaguely.

“It must be nice,” Sora said. “Having a mark...knowing you have another half.” Her own wrists were blank, something that Tim had observed was more common in this time period.

“Not...simple,” Tim said. “Mine...can hurt.”

“Is it a good kind of hurt?” Sora asked.

“Good hurt real?” Tim shot back.

“Maybe not,” she admitted. “But it would still be reassuring.”

“Agree,” Ra’s said. “Know...make easy.”

“Now, easy,” Tim said. “Later...not.”

“We must bow to your greater wisdom,” Sora said. “You love someone...that has to be something.”

Tim half-smiled. “Not need for love,” he said. “Many with no...they love. Or those with, love other. Not certain.”

“Do you love yours?” Sora asked.

“Yes,” Tim said. “But love other...love many. He...just most. I choose.”

Sora nodded. “I want to choose,” she said. “But...I have to wait for someone to choose me.” She glanced furtively at Ra’s, who was busy trying not to exist.

Tim’s smile grew. “Someone will choose,” he said. “Certain.”

*

“Certain?” Ra’s asked.

“Should,” Tim answered. “You love...she likes. Know...ask.”

“Different,” Ra’s muttered.

“Trust me,” Tim said. “Should ask.”

It had been over a month since Sora had been brought into their care. She had recovered remarkably well, and was due to be discharged. And Ra’s had...maybe not found courage, but at least gotten plenty of encouragement to ask to court her.

That was mostly Tim’s doing. He knew he wouldn’t stay forever--someone would find him, someone always did. And there was no point clinging to a man who wouldn’t exist for him. So the best Tim would do was encourage him to pursue someone who would stay, someone who might be able to do what Tim couldn’t.

Ra’s nodded. “Will ask.” He took a deep breath and went down the stairs.

Tim didn’t follow. He instead went to the window and looked out, his eyes distant. He wondered if he’d already destroyed the future, if no one would come, if he’d spend the rest of his life hanging around Morocco six hundred years early, watching Ra’s and Sora court and marry and have children and give up on immortality. He wondered if he had just doomed himself to be alone forever.

Then again, before he had known Ra’s, he had thought that would be his fate. His soulmark was so ancient, so unknowable before. Tim had thought he would spend his whole life waiting then; he had resigned himself to trying to be happy without his soulmate. And he could do that again. He could stay, and watch his beloved be happy with someone else. Maybe Tim would find another girl here, settle down and live like he had never seen the future.

It might be nice. Simple. No real responsibilities, other than assisting Ra’s with his doctor work. No one looking to him to run a giant company or save Gotham or walk the line between heroes and villains. No one demanding everything from him while giving nothing back. And while he couldn’t have with this Ra’s what he had with his own, it was still nice to have a friend. Someone to speak pidgin and play chess and discuss medicine with, without the complications of their messy soulbond, violent sex life and constant fighting.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? Tim looked over Fes, at the people moving about, listening to the calling in Arabic, seeing how...tame it all was right now. It would be a peaceful life here, with friends and a familiar occupation. And Tim could feel the thundering in his blood, the call of the Bats. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stay, that he was already starting to go stir-crazy.

That was always his problem. Every time Tim thought he could settle into something, he always needed something more. Being Tim Drake wasn’t enough, he needed to be Robin. Being Robin wasn’t enough, he needed to save Batman. Saving Batman wasn’t enough, he had to run the business as well.

The only thing he was comfortable with was Ra’s. And even Ra’s came with so much excitement and complication that it didn’t really feel like settling down. Even when they were ostensibly relaxing, there was a spark, a tension that kept Tim alert, kept him alive.

That wasn’t there yet. There was nothing dangerous about this version of Ra’s, nothing that made Tim’s mind and body thrum with excitement, nothing that made his soul feel whole. He was a poor substitute for the man Tim loved. Because he wasn’t the man Tim loved. He wasn’t there to challenge Tim or improve him.

“Timothy!”

Tim took a breath and put on a smile, and went downstairs. Ra’s was alone, looking vaguely dazed and happy.

“Accepted?” Tim asked.

“She wants,” Ra’s answered. “Thank.”

“Be happy,” Tim said.

“Am happy,” Ra’s said. He was looking at Tim with a slight frown. “No Sora, future.”

Tim shook his head.

“Happened?”

“Don’t know,” Tim said.

“How...become bad man?”

“Don’t know,” Tim whispered. “You...he...never say.”

Ra’s looked at him a long time. “Wish...be good man,” he said. “For you.”

“Good, in here.” Tim touched Ra’s’ chest gently. “Know good...know love.” He swallowed. “Sora...save you.”

“Faith, will save?”

“Faith,” Tim said. “Will save.” There were tears in his eyes again, and he didn’t try to hide them. “Wait for me.”

Ra’s looked at him. “Leave?”

“Must.” Tim leaned forward and kissed him gently. “Bound...not you. Future.”

“How?” Ra’s asked.

“Not know,” Tim said. “But...will find.”

“Timothy…”

“Not need me,” Tim said. “Not now.”

“Will wait,” Ra’s promised. “Six hundreds...longer. Will love, one day.”

Tim kissed him again before turning toward the door. His belt was on, his gear all in place. He just had to find a way back.

He had to heal his soul.

*

Tim realized he probably should have prepared better.

The desert was large, and it was hot. He had stopped and bought food and water, of course, but since he had no real idea of where he was going, it was going to run out soon. There wasn’t much else in sight, and the only direction Tim had was a pulling in his soul.

He had to trust it. Had to think that somehow, it would lead him back to his Ra’s. Because he knew that he wasn’t bound to the man he had left behind. No, he was bound to the Demon’s Head, to the life of danger and violence. Tim almost hated it, but…

Well. That’s how it always was. Tim supposed it had to do with his tendency to self-sabotage, his inability to just let himself be happy unless it was possible to die at any second. He did wonder idly if he was matched to Ra’s because of that, or if his self-destructive habits were born of being matched to Ra’s. A bit of chicken and egg, really.

Though Tim knew he could blame this situation on being matched to Ra’s. If he wasn’t...if he had never known him, he wouldn’t be wandering the desert following nothing but instinct.

Or maybe it wasn’t any real instinct, just the need to get away from Fes. Needing to be away from the man he couldn’t have, the one he barely knew but could be certain was happier without him. The Ra’s here didn’t need him. Admittedly, the one Tim was trying to get back to didn’t really need him, either, but he did want Tim. He did love Tim, as much as he was capable of love. And Tim...Tim needed that. He needed someone who wanted him, who loved him unconditionally. Even if that person was a complete psychopath.

A psychopath who would need to fill in the blanks of how he got there. Tim did wonder about that. From what he could tell, in this time period, Ra’s was happy. Kind, intelligent, so gentle. Sure, he wanted his money to live, but his prices weren’t exhorbitant, and he was eager and willing to learn from others. He didn’t carry an air of violence and superiority, didn’t belittle those around him, didn’t command anything except his own hands.

How did such a man end up a demon, especially with someone like Sora by his side? How could any of it have happened?

Would any of it still happen?

Tim sighed. It didn’t matter now. He was either going to find a way home or die in the desert, and he doubted he would really get answers either way. All he could do now was keep walking.

Keep walking and hope he was rescued soon.

*

The desert had faded into one large blur. Tim knew he had to be far into the Sahara by now. He had been walking for days, his supplies dwindling slowly, thanks to Batman’s training, but dwindling nonetheless. He wasn’t thinking anymore, just focusing on moving forward, on the pull in his wrist.

He was probably losing it, assuming he ever had it to begin with. Tim had never been too certain about that. Genius, sure, but also what the kinder people in Gotham referred to as “eccentric” and the less-kind people called “bat-shit crazy.” Though admittedly, both were a step-up from when he was a kid and referred to as “troubled.”

Okay, yeah, he’d never been completely sane to start with. A sane person wouldn’t have tried to stalk Batman for six years. A sane person never would have put himself up as Robin. A sane person would never join Ra’s al Ghul voluntarily, let alone sleep with him, let alone agree to marry him. So really, losing his mind to heatstroke wasn’t that far of a step down. 

He wondered if Ra’s would notice a difference. And if he did, if he would be bothered by the change. After all, Tim being just a little bit crazier would probably help their marriage work out a lot better than currently projected.

*

The green had to be a mirage.

Still, it was something to walk toward, so Tim went for it. His water had run out that morning, and if he was going to die, he might as well die chasing dreams. The heat was already starting to kill him. His sanity was far from intact.

The green didn’t move away from him. Tim wondered at that, but kept going. It was probably the insanity taking over. Or wishful thinking, which was about the same thing.

Or…

Tim had seen Lazarus Pits many times now. Ra’s kept him away from the principal ones--because of course he did, Tim would just as soon firebomb them if they were having a lovers’ quarrel. He had never liked them, in spite of what they had given him, but right now…

Right now, the water looked better than anything Tim had ever seen. He smiled a bit, feeling the tug of his soul toward it. The Pit would heal all injuries--Tim wondered if it would heal a broken heart and bond.

And even if it didn’t, drowning in a Lazarus Pit was better than drying up in the desert.

Tim took a deep breath and fell forward. He felt the water around him, swallowing him, pulling him down...down...down…

*

Ra’s stared at the mark on his wrist, fighting to control the overwhelming sorrow in his heart. It had been three months since the fight with the Court of Owls, and there had been no sign of Timothy since then. The mark on Ra’s’ wrist was still glowing softly, so he knew Timothy had to be alive somewhere, but it was too faint to get a proper trace on.

The response had been swift and violent. Ra’s was angry with Timothy for starting this conflict, but he was more enraged with the Owls for doing...whatever they did with him. Kidnapped him, perhaps, though they hadn’t made any ransom demands, nor had Timothy been found in any of Ra’s’ many, many attacks on them.

Ra’s stood and looked out the window of the Drake mansion. Gotham had become a warzone, fights happening constantly, collateral damage spreading faster than the Bats could contain it. Not that the Bats were helping--quite the opposite, in fact, always getting in the way and making things much worse. Many of the Owls had been killed, several more captured and interrogated for information, and still no one had found Timothy.

Ra’s was going to start executing his own assassins if he didn’t get answers soon.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he missed Timothy, more than he had missed anyone in centuries. The house--Timothy’s house, it was always his, bought for him--felt too empty with just Ra’s in it. He couldn’t bring himself to move anything more than necessary, wanting everything in perfect condition with Timothy came back, because he would come back, he had to come back. If he didn’t…

Ra’s couldn’t be certain of what he would do if he lost Timothy permanently. He had lost before, of course, many times, and every time had led to a lot of bloodshed. This time, though...this time, it was half of his own soul he would lose, the half he had spent several lifetimes waiting for. He wasn’t afraid of what he might do, but he knew it would be unpleasant for a lot of people.

Damn Timothy for making him start to care about them. 

Ra’s was broken out of his reverie by a faint ringing sound. He turned and picked up his phone from a table.

“Yes?”

“You’re not gonna believe this, Boss...we found him.”

Ra’s straightened immediately. “Where?”

“Middle of the fucking Sahara...he’s...not in great shape.”

“But he is alive?”

“Barely...we got him to a hospital in Fes. He’s massively dehydrated and...more insane than usual.”

Ra’s closed his eyes. Fes. A city he hadn’t seen in so many centuries. Not since he’d burned half of it to the ground. He had sworn to never set foot there again. 

But…

But.

“I will be there in fifteen hours,” Ra’s said. “Call me immediately if his condition changes.” He hung up and started firing off text messages as he stormed out of the house. None of the ninja hanging around questioned him as he ordered them to drive him to the nearest airport and charter a flight to Morocco.

Fifteen hours. It was normally so little time in Ra’s’ mind, so little time to an immortal, but after losing Timothy for three months, it was too long to wait to see him again. And still not enough time to prepare himself to be back there, back where it had all started…

He hadn’t thought about it in years. Had almost managed to forget at least most of it. Some things couldn’t be forgotten, of course, but he could at least let go of the unimportant things. Of course, that left him with the worst parts of it, but if he let go of those parts…

How had Timothy ended up there, anyway? Was it the Owls playing a cruel joke on him, or just the universe as usual? Or was it a massive coincidence?

Or was Timothy taking even more steps to undermine him? Was everything with the Owls a distraction? Was Timothy secretly working with them, had he arranged his own disappearance as a cover to find all the things Ra’s had hidden from him?

Ra’s shook his head slightly. He was just being paranoid. If Timothy had wanted to know about his past, he could have simply asked. Granted, Ra’s wasn’t sure how much he would have told him, but he could have tried. And even if Timothy was investigating on his own, how could he have traced Ra’s to Fes? Any records of his existence there had been destroyed, anything so much as mentioning his name was gone. And if the Court of Owls had that information, they would have already used it against him.

And woe to anyone who mentioned any of that in Ra’s’ hearing.

He didn’t realize his hands were trembling until the flight was underway and the (overly cheerful, untrained and probably with no idea of how much danger she was in) stewardess was handing him a glass of wine. Ra’s watched, fascinated, as the liquid splashed in the glass. His hands were always steady, had been that way ever since he had started pursuing the field of medicine. Whether treating a patient or killing a target, Ra’s’ hands had never shook.

But they were shaking now. Now that he was flying back. Now that he was going to see his Timothy again…

Now that he had to think about her.

Ra’s closed his eyes, a wash of memories he had long shed starting to creep up. She was beautiful, and so kind, and clever, more clever than anyone. She had taught him so many things--Arabic, chess, social skills. And their wedding...it was brighter than anything else in Ra’s’ mind. She had smiled for him, and danced like she hadn’t a care. He thought she would save him.

He had been told she would save him, though he couldn’t quite remember who had said so. It was so long ago, and there were so many people in that part of his life. Patients, friends. Family, even, once he had married. It was the last time he could remember being truly happy. Even his other marriages, his daughters, his grandson...they were all part of something greater, a longer game than she had been. He cared for them, of course, as one cares for prize dogs or employees, but he couldn’t honestly say that he loved them.

Fortunately, he was a very good liar.

But Timothy was different. Timothy was more a part of him than any of the others could have been. Timothy was born for him, made for him. Even if the boy was stubborn and messy and far too clever, he belonged to Ra’s. Both of them gave themselves willingly, because it was what they were born to do. And even when they were fighting--and they were almost always fighting--Timothy would give him that look, with a spark in his eye, that made Ra’s want to throw him down and take him, or give up everything he had in worship of him.

It was terrible, all-consuming. Ra’s loved Timothy, with so much of himself that it was frightening. And the thought of losing him…

It was a good thing Ra’s rarely slept. When he did, his nightmares were too terrible to think of. There was a reason that, even when he shared his bed, he always left it well before dawn. Timothy never objected, but Ra’s wondered what would happen when they were married and such behavior would no longer be tolerated.

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered right now. Right now, he had to get to Timothy, even if it meant returning to Fes, even if it meant having to tell him all the horrible things in his past. Everything else could wait.

The phone rang halfway through the flight. Ra’s answered at once. “Yes?”

“He’s awake...not making sense, though. He’s babbling a lot of nonsense.”

“Let me speak to him.”

There was a pause before he heard Timothy’s voice, spilling out broken Arabic.

“Heat...much heat, Sjai’yhan’leish…”

Ra’s’ heart clenched. “Timothy,” he said.

“Not here,” Timothy said. “Not here...home. Back, back home...Sora needs…”

Ra’s thought he might be sick. Timothy couldn’t know, shouldn’t know that name.

_ Sora needs. _

“Sora is gone,” Ra’s said, his voice harsh as he slipped into Arabic himself. “She is gone and she will not come back.”

Timothy was silent for a minute. “But...she save. Sora can save…”

Everything was tilting. Ra’s had to breathe deep, fighting the rage and sorrow and overwhelming loss welling up in his heart. “She did not,” he said. “She could not.” He wanted to put the phone down, cut Timothy off. “I will explain when I see you.”

“Made better,” Timothy said. “Will live...must live.”

Ra’s closed his eyes. The words were familiar, a mix of languages. Nudging him, like he had been waiting…

He had been waiting. He had managed to forget, but now…

“Be strong,” Ra’s said. “I am coming...wait for me.” He forced himself not to break, forced his voice to remain strong. “Wait for me, like I have waited for you.”

“Will wait,” Timothy murmured. “Always.”

Ra’s hung up the phone, unable to listen anymore. Timothy was alive. That was all that mattered.

Timothy was still alive.

*

The city had changed.

Of course it had. Six hundred years would make any city change. In a way, it was welcome. It meant the memories didn’t overwhelm him the moment he stepped off the plane.

Though part of him still saw it how it was. He knew he could retrace ancient streets with his eyes closed, even now. He knew where his home was, where the palace was, where Sora had lived and died and…

He never told anyone he still heard her voice. Not often, or everywhere, but enough. Enough to assure him he was still quite mad. He could definitely hear it here, her laughter, her teasing as she tried to teach him.

It happened less now, time making it fade, Timothy filling some of the void she had left. Timothy had replaced her better than anyone else could have. Probably because Timothy wasn’t her replacement; rather, Sora had been Timothy’s place holder.

Ra’s shook his head. That wasn’t fair. He loved Sora, so much that losing her had driven him completely insane. He knew she would hate who he was now, but if she had lived, he never would have become this. He didn’t know what he would have been, or if someone else would have risen in his place, but it wouldn’t have been like this.

His underlings drove him to the hospital. It was easy enough to get in, just a matter of walking confidently enough that security didn’t stop him. He found Timothy’s room easily and hurried inside.

Timothy was asleep, IVs rehydrating him. There was sunburn cream on the bedside table, and plenty of it had been rubbed over his skin. Ra’s sat down beside him, staring down at his face.

How had he forgotten? Sure, a lot had happened since the Western stranger had fallen into his old life, but forgetting the man who was made to be your soulmate…

Well. That didn’t matter now. All that mattered was Timothy was alive, and Ra’s was never going to let him out of his sight again.

*

There was light.

It wasn’t the unbearable hot light of the desert, though. This was still bright, and sterile, but it wasn’t hot. That was good.

There was also softness under him. That was nice, after several nights sleeping on sand. Though it didn’t do much for the burn over most of his body.

And there was someone holding his hand. His soul was settling, the light coming from his wrist as well. Tim blinked several times and looked up, breathing in relief when he saw Ra’s.

Ra’s looked older than the last time Tim had seen him, even in the present, and if Tim didn’t know better, he would think he looked exhausted as well. It was strange to see the man he knew, but good after months of having to live with the younger, softer version.

“Timothy?” Ra’s asked.

Tim took a moment to sort through his jumbled thoughts. Dehydration followed by jumping into a Lazarus Pit tended to make things confusing. “Where?” Tim asked, before realizing he had used the Hebrew word. “Where are we?” he corrected in English. That was going to take some getting used to.

“We’re in a hospital in Fes, Morocco,” Ra’s said. “My assassins found you wandering the desert in delirium...presumably from heatstroke.”

“Makes sense,” Tim muttered. “I did kind of run off without preparation.” He looked up at Ra’s for a moment. “Do you remember…?”

“I did not,” Ra’s said. “Not until you spoke to me...not until I heard the language we made together.”

“I guess six hundred years would fuck with your memory,” Tim said.

Ra’s was quiet for a long moment. Tim managed to sit up. “Ra’s?”

“It was not just time,” Ra’s said. “Though that did not help.”

“What happened?” Tim asked. “To you, I mean...how did you become…?”

“Later, Timothy,” Ra’s said. “You are tired, as am I...the hospital intends to discharge you in the morning, after which I will take you to one of my bases to finish recovering.”

“Not Gotham?”

“I fear that a fourteen-hour flight would not be very good for you,” Ra’s said.

“I’m sunburned, not invalid,” Tim said. “And Gotham has less sun to make it worse.”

“Please, Timothy…” Ra’s seemed to struggle for a moment. “I lost you for three months...let me keep you for just a few days.”

Tim blinked. “Three months?” he repeated.

“I believe it is the same amount of time you spent with Sjai’yhan’leish.”

“Yeah,” Tim said. “But...that doesn’t usually happen in real time.” He shook himself slightly. “Have you told Bruce that I’ve been found?”

“I sent him a message. He requested that you be returned to Gotham when you are well.”

“I’m fine.”

“Please.” Ra’s grip tightened on Tim’s hand. “Let me be certain of that...you know that I am quite a good doctor.”

Tim sighed. “Fine. As long as you tell me what happened while I’m convalescing.”

“All right,” Ra’s said. “When I am certain you are well enough.”

“Fine.”

*

Tim was glad that Ra’s had let him travel to the base without sedatives, though he was still sufficiently woozy from the desert that he still didn’t know where they were going. Tim slept through most of the flight and really only came too when he had already been deposited in one of Ra’s’ ostentatious bedrooms.

He spent several days getting back to full health, cursing the sunburn for preventing him and Ra’s from reuniting properly. Ra’s wasn’t hovering, at least, though he did come back at least every night to play chess and verbally spar. Tim was upset about the destruction in Gotham; Ra’s argued it was at least partially Tim’s fault. That topic kept them arguing for several evenings, picking up the threads of the conversation even after so long apart.

It wasn’t until near the end of the week that Tim didn’t jump into the banter at once. “You promised to tell me what happened,” he said.

Ra’s sighed. “I did.” He stared at the chessboard for a long time. “I am uncertain where to begin.”

“Did you marry her?” Tim asked.

“Yes,” Ra’s said. “I did marry her...she was beautiful, Timothy. And I loved her...so much.”

“So did I,” Tim said. “Maybe not the same, but…” He swallowed. “How did she die?”

“She was killed by a man who was jealous of me,” Ra’s said. “And I was blamed for it.” His face was completely blank, any emotion gone from it. “I spent over a day in a cage, with her body, condemned as a murderer...I believe that would drive any man to this.”

Tim stared in horror. “I...Ra’s…”

“That is in the past,” Ra’s said, his voice harsh. “She is gone, and I cannot have her back. You are here...I spent six hundred years waiting for you, even if I had forgotten it was you I waited for. The last few months, when I thought I had lost you…”

“You didn’t,” Tim said. “I’m here...I’m alive. I’m alive, and I love you...whatever else happens...I’m still yours.”

“You still wish to marry me, even though you know exactly what you should have had?”

Tim shook his head. “I wasn’t meant to be with him,” he said. “Yes, he was kind. He was beautiful. And...I loved who he was in theory. But I didn’t love  _ him.  _ I love you...I shouldn’t. We both know that. But...I do.”

“Timothy…”

“I don’t understand it, either,” Tim said. “You’re a murderous omnicidal maniac, a control freak, a complete bastard to your daughters and grandson, with far too many pets and a tendency to burn down everything you don’t like...but I love you.” He reached out and took Ra’s’ hand. “I love you, and I want to help you.”

“I told you before...I do not need saving.”

“You just told me this happened due to trauma over losing Sora.”

Ra’s glared. “I did not become this way because of one event,” he said. “That may have been the thing that began it, but it took many, many years for me to come to this. And even if what you believe was true, you cannot undo any of it. I have made my path...you can follow me, or you can continue to fight, but I am not leaving it.”

“Ra’s…”

“Please, Timothy,” Ra’s said. “Do not romanticize me...do not think that I am as I was before, and do not attempt to reconvert me. This is not one of those trite romance stories where a man is saved by the love of the right person.”

“So you’re saying you won’t change?”

“Every man changes...it is inevitable. I changed when Sora died...I changed when I married again, and again. I changed when you entered my life, just as you changed. But I am urging you to not see me as a tragic figure to be brought back to grace. That road will only lead to heartbreak and disappointment.”

“If I can’t help…”

“You do help...you showed me it was worth living for so long after.” Ra’s kissed him, gently. “I spent six hundred years waiting...you were worth waiting for. I do not try to change you...I beg you to do me the same courtesy.”

Tim looked down. “I’ll try,” he said. “I just...it was nice.”

“I know,” Ra’s said. “But we do not live in that world anymore...even if I could be that way again, the world cannot.”

“So you’d rather change the world than change yourself,” Tim said. “You’d rather go back to the past...which wasn’t as rosy as you remember...than try to move forward in the future.”

“The future has given me very little reason to be optimistic. Your leaders are corrupt, your corporations run everything, and your people are too apathetic or broken to do anything about it. You wish to save the world...so do I. We simply have different methods of doing so.”

Tim sighed. “I guess you’re right,” he said.

They sat in silence for a long while before Tim stood. “Come to bed?” he asked, quiet and tentative.

Ra’s nodded and followed Tim into the bedroom. They undressed and got into bed silently, not moving to do anything but cuddle. Tim lay on Ra’s’ chest, feeling safe for the first time in months.

“Do you think we’ll be happy?” Tim asked as they drifted off.

Ra’s kissed his hair. “I believe we will.”


End file.
